


Broken and Unbroken Vows

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Drake's Venture (1980)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History recorded many lies about the execution of Thomas Doughty. Some have been revealed, but the greatest lie of all, that the execution took place at all... well... I leave it to the reader which history they prefer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken and Unbroken Vows

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Sir Francis Drake sighed as he settled into a large, heavily padded chair, closed his eyes, and waited for the room to stop rocking. He hated being land-sick; it was such a ridiculous ailment that he never mentioned it to anyone. He simply growled and snapped and kept them all away for a few days until he became accustomed to dry land once more. 

Suddenly he felt the gentle pressure of hands over his face, covering his eyes, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. A soft voice asked, "Canst thou hazard a guess, my lord?"

Drake smiled. "It could be, mayhap, a heathen stowed away in the hold of my good ship these many months and only now deigning to emerge upon our finding safe harbour."

There was an even softer laugh, and then the hands shifted as soft lips nuzzled his neck and even softer hair, scented of violet, tickled his ear. "Nay, Francis, tis not a heathen."

"Couldst be the ghost flipper of a bird-fish, come to upbraid me for consuming his mortal remains?" 

The amused voice came again. "Shall I devour thee to complete the circle?" Sharp teeth nipped lightly at his nape, making Drake shudder with a tinge of unease; his companion was unpredictable, as scars on his body would attest. Not that it mattered. Will he or nil he, Drake's heart would never change its course. He captured the teasing hands and turned, smiling. "Thou art my one true love. Now and evermore." He stole a kiss from willing lips and held the warm and plaint body against his own for a moment as his mind cast back...

@^@

"Why?" Drake went to Doughtie after twilight to put his questions, when the novelty of a gentleman trussed to the mast had ceased to draw attention from the Pelican's crew. "Why dost thou incite dissension, Thomas?"

Thomas lifted his head with the innate grace that never left him; not even the exhaustion of battle or happier exertion kept that from him. "Why dost thou exile me to starvation and abuse under thy minion, Saracold?" Thomas's tone was angry and hurt, and yet still his voice remained velvet. "I but protest ill-usage. E'en an ass may bray when beaten."

"I had thought to honour thee with the command, and with my trust in thee!" Drake protested, urgently, but still too quietly to be overheard by the man at the wheel.

Doughtie's eyes flashed as his eyelids flickered. "Aye, twas a right rich honour indeed, Francis. The ship is Saracold's in all but the very name, and he thy most obedient servant. Was it not on thy orders that I and my brother are subject to most foul and infamous discourtesy? Would thou stand idly by whilst an unwashed varlet commends thee to eat what droppeth from his tail? Wouldst thou not raise up a cry to high heaven at the insult and seek redress?"

Drake sighed. "Thou handled Saracold poorly."

Doughtie's chin raised in defiance to the extent his bindings permitted. "I handled the lout not at all. No man save thee, Francis, that I promised back in Eire, and _my_ word is good."

Drake growled at the imputation and struck Doughtie once, before remembering the man was bound and could neither dodge nor fight back.

Doughtie's head cracked against the mast and he slumped in the ropes. 

"Thomas? Thomas, do not play the fool." Irritated, Drake shook Thomas. His hands came away red. "Doctor!" he shouted before recalling that the ship's surgeon had perished. Drake cut Doughtie free with his own hands.

"Convey him to my own bed," Drake directed.

John Doughtie glared at Drake. "Aye, that would suit your pleasure, would it not, Captain-General!"

In the quiet following John's rash words, Drake glared back at John and replied. "For your brother's sake, I forgive your insolence, yet have a care, Master Doughtie, my patience is not infinite!" He turned and followed Thomas into his cabin.

"Francis?" Thomas looked up at him some minutes later.

Drake smiled in relief, and paused in bathing Thomas's brow with a wine-soaked cloth. "Aye, tis me. I must beg thy forgiveness for the churlish blow I struck thee. Twas ever the sad case that my hot temper has cost me friends. Say that it is not so with us, and thou shalt remain my very good friend."

Thomas smiled and took Drake's hand, kissing it. "Good friend? Thou art my dearest husband. Blows from thy hand twere better than caresses from any other."

Drake laughed. "Tis a fine jest..." He stopped abruptly at the look on Thomas's face.

"Dost thou not love me, Francis?" Thomas's lips formed a rosebud pout, and his dark eyes deepened. "Must I return the ring thou gavest me with thy vows?" He tugged at the ornate ring that one of their captives had given Thomas in token of gratitude for the fair treatment he had received at the hands of the English. 

"Thomas... thou art not well. Rest." Drake gently pulled Thomas's hand away from the ring. "He that gave thee that ring hath no regrets."

Thomas smiled. "I am thy man, then, Francis, and thou art mine."

"Thee will remember naught of this in the morning, Thomas." Drake was touched by this glimpse at the heart of the man who had shared his bed as field companion, but never claimed aught more than friendship.

@^@

"This is most unseemly, Captain-General," Fletcher complained a week later, when Doughtie had recovered physically, but continued to behave as if wed to Drake, touching him, giving him flirtatious glances, and finally kissing his hand while in plain sight of the entire crew of the Pelican. "It is an abomination..." His words were cut off as Drake caught him by the throat.

"Thomas Doughtie has been afflicted by God. As tis God's will that has made him such as he is, then Thomas is innocent as a new-born babe." He loosened his grip and pushed the preacher away.

Fletcher rubbed at his throat. "Unbaptized babes go to hell, Captain-General." He backed away prudently. "And men who defy God's prohibitions may suffer penalties imposed by mortal laws as well."

"You shall say nothing of Thomas's affliction in that diary you keep, Master Fletcher! 'pon our return to England, you mayst call me whate'er villainous names you wish, impute whate'er dishonourable deeds you like to my name, yet you _shall_ not blacken his name!"

Thomas rushed up and caught at Drake's arm. "Love, thou shouldst not have harsh words with our appointed minister of souls. It lookest not right before thy men, as lacking respect for his divine office." He looked at Fletcher and smiled. "If he doth offend thee, then have him executed, right swiftly. Shall I kill him for thee, love?" Thomas's eyes turned to Fletcher, mild and innocent, and utterly without mercy. Fletcher turned pale.

Drake coughed, "Nay, not yet."

Thomas nodded, "Thou must e'en grant him a span of time to make his peace with God." He kissed Drake and wandered away.

Drake took Fletcher by the arm. "If Thomas does not recover his senses by the time we make landfall, then we mayst arrive at a tale fit for England's ears. Bide yourself in patience, Master Fletcher. Write no word of this, and I swear I shall not harm you, nor allow him to do you injury."

Fletcher nodded, speechless.

@^@

On San Julian the crews feasted on penguin whilst Drake and Vicarye laboriously wrote a fantasy to catch the hearts of Englishmen. "Must I behead him myself?" Drake asked, feeling ill at the thought, with the head in question leaning trustingly against his shoulder.

"Nay. You are our Captain-General, you shouldst but give the order. "

Sleepily, Thomas said, "I shall be very brave and courteous. It will be a grand death and everyone who hears the tale shall weep, and be moved to tithe to the church."

"Aye." Drake stroked Thomas's hair. "And I shall have the name of villain."

Thomas giggled. "Tis always the best role! And I shall forgive you! Mmmm... wilt thou have my head 'pon a platter... nay, twould be disrespectful of Saint John." He closed his eyes. "And I shall be buried 'neath the sands. Shall I have a cross? I should like one." Thomas fell asleep, as he did these days, with the swiftness of a child unburdened by care.

Drake sighed and carried Thomas to bed, laying him down and putting a blanket over him. "Aye, thou shalt be a murdered innocent... slain by my hand for my profit. Tis truth, yet God knows I bitterly regret it."

Vicarye politely pretended to be engrossed in the testimony he was writing for Ned Bright, who'd been given the most damning lies because he was the best liar amongst the crew, and should be able to repeat himself back in England without faltering.

@^@

After the execution, during which a fruit of the cocos tree was split with an axe at Thomas's insistence, they settled in to winter at San Julian. Thomas was the only one who never tired of penguin.

@^@

John Doughtie approached Drake as the Golden Hind drew close to English shores. "You have had your use of my brother long enough, Master Drake. He shall leave the ship with me."

"Nay." Drake did not look at John, but kept gazing at the faint blue line of land gradually darkening and growing. "That is not his wish, as well you knowest."

"What will you do with him? You are a married man, soon to be an important figure at court. Let me take him away. I'll vow ne'er to reveal the lie of his death, or the truth of his life to any."

"Do? Why I shall cherish him." Drake turned then to look at John. "He is my treasure, one I shall not relinquish, nay, though the Queen herself should command. My wife, aye, any woman I choose to take, is nothing to do with him. He shall have an honoured place in my household, and be denied nothing which he desires."

"My brother is not your mistress!" John snarled. "Give me him, or I shall..."

Drake glared. "You will not tell the truth and drag your family's name through the mire."

John paused. "Nay. But I shall see you pay for his murder! For he is as slain as any man can be!" With a whirl of his cape, John stalked away.

Drake snorted, and then shrugged. Softly he said, "We shall see which speaks louder, your fine blood, or my Spanish gold."

@^@

Mary looked into the room, and saw Drake with Doughtie sitting on his lap, kissing him. She gave a ladylike sniff, and walked past them to pick up her embroidery-work.

"The light is better in the garden," Drake said to her.

"So 'tis, my lord." Mary left the room, muttering to herself, "at least 'tis not goats in the parlour, like Lord M..."

@^@


End file.
